Cold War
by Idonquixote
Summary: Semi-AU. 1989. Rogue Soviet agent Felonius Gru meets his match in America's three most annoying weapons: a trio of orphans. It all goes downhill from there.
1. Pivot

**I honestly have no idea where this came from, haha. But it was such a hilarious idea I couldn't pass it up- especially since the ridiculous premise fit so well with this movie. I don't even- pure crack, I'd say. But crack that works!**

**Seriously, never in my life did I think I'd be doing a "cold war" story. Especially for something like this. But, wow; this just had to be done! It had to be. **

**Heads up: The story's not written in chronological order. We're actually starting with the "climax" and winding down as the thing goes on. And I'm not typing accents phonetically.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM.**

**Normal text = English**

**Underlined= Russian**

* * *

10

XX

XX

Over the fence; get over the fence. And then-

Then what? Then what? Then what? He checked the gun again, desperately hoping he wasn't imagining its sudden light weight. Confound it all! It wasn't loaded- not anymore. But no one else knew that, at least; his grip tightened.

The shadows closed in, the gray storage buildings tempting him to hide- _no, no! can't fall for it._

The barbed fence was a little ways off, just a few more long, long yards. He stopped, sunk in the shadows, and gasped for breath.

"Igumnov!"

_Hold it, hold the breath, slow, easy_. The footsteps approached, fast and quiet. How many? He couldn't focus- at least two, no, one, no three, no-

"Igumnov, I know you're still here."

Four. There were four.

XX

XX

"What? Can't understand English, Igumnov?"

He crept the other way. They knew he'd go for the fence. No, he'd have to take the long way. The shadows stretched; follow the trail.

It hadn't been this way since he was a boy, a wee little boy. And Maman was telling him to be quiet, to be damn quiet- not a sound or they'd be caught, just like Papa, just like Papa.

_"You know, son, you're just like your father- LAME."_

XX

XX

The butt of steal against his head. He held the gun up in an attempt to say "see? I've got one too!"

"Drop it," a low voice commanded.

He didn't move. "Drop it." This time the voice said it in accented Russian. His hand lowered.

"You know, Igumnov, you were good- _real_ good."

He heard the gun behind him cock. "That's not even your name is it, Mr. Gru?"

He tore around, spun, and leapt, rolling over the man, fists pounding, limbs working so furiously that he thought they would both die.

XX

Bang.

XX

9

XX

XX

"You did the right thing," the stone-faced man repeated, beady eyes staring down at the child before him.

She looked away, feet barely touching the floor on account of the chair's height. The man placed one hand on the table between them.

"Do you understand, M...?"

"Margo."

She adjusted the overly large spectacles on her face and sucked in a breath. She hated lying. But not this time; this time, she needed to lie.

"Mister Perkins, I didn't have any evidence- I mean, I was just scared."

She wanted the words to come out right; they had to be innocent, undetectable.

"He wasn't... the nicest guy." What an understatement. "And I was just scared- you know, like a little kid. So I called the police- and you answered and-"

She made sure to make her voice crack, to stare with wide eyes. _Too bad I'm not Agnes_.

"I just wanted us to go somewhere else- I- I didn't know it'd get Mr. Gru in so much trouble!"

_But you DID know... But that was before the moon, before Vector_.

"He's just an immigrant, Mr. Perkins. That's all!"

Now she was genuinely sobbing. There wasn't any need to fake the tears after all.

"He was spying on my department, he was stealing American weapons." Perkins was unfazed (to her disappointment).

He leaned forward and grabbed the child's chin with one hand. "And whatever relation we had would get me in lots of trouble."

The implication sank in and the girl's eyes glistened with horror. "So let's just say you're the witness and I turned him in. You wouldn't want me to have to keep you and the rest of the brats quiet, would you?"

The other hand crushed an apple.

She shook her head slowly.

XX

XX

Keep moving, keep moving. That was one down, three to get past.

He held the gun up. It was a shame that the American's weapon had wasted its last bullet on... him. _This day keeps getting better and better!_

And he was bleeding, somewhere. He didn't have time to think about it- all he knew was that it was leaving a dangerous trail of blood and that it was slowing him down, waaayyy down.

"Igumnov," they called, "you can't hide for long!"

The worst he faced was deportation. He didn't really want to know about what to face _after_ that. No doubt, his former bosses would be "upset" with him.

He was so bent on moving forward that he forgot to look up.

A man crashed on him from above, and this time he probably couldn't win the scuffle.

XX

XX

_"Is there a way to get them off?" _

_He stared nervously at the thing on his leg, a black-haired chocolate eyed child with a face so sickeningly sweet that it made him want to barf. And this was the less than successful start of ex-Agent Igumnov's master plan._

XX

XX

He stared dizzily upwards, the man's jaunty face regarding him with disdain. He knew this man. What the hell?

"Demidov! What the-"

"Thought I was on the other side, Felonius?"

The man stepped down. More pressure on his back. He couldn't wrap his head around it- Demidov had been hell-bent on taking him down a decade ago, but that was when...

"You're not the only one that went rogue, comrade."

Demidov grinned and pointed his pistol. "Unlike you, I just switched sides."

"Oh."

Oh.

OH. _Oh, Chyort voz'mi!_

XX

XX

_"Why would you want to go 'dance class'?" he asked with that annoying accent._

_The girls ignored him, continuing down their path. If Mr. Grusome didn't want to drive them, fine! Margo would just lead her sisters there- she always made it a habit to remember addresses._

_"So you can dance like Michael Jackson? HA! You'll never be THAT good!"_

_They were almost to the end of the block._

_"I'm still not driving you!"_

_They kept walking._

_"Still not!"_

_Walking, walking._

_"Still not!"_

_They were about to cross the bend. A loud, humiliated sigh from "Fester Addams."_

_"Just tell me where eet is."_

XX

XX

"Hey! Hey! Help! Hello, anyone?"

Edith gave a cry of frustration before sitting back down, arms folded across her chest. Agnes did the same. The cell was too small for comfort and Margo had a feeling that something or someone was guarding them from behind the two-way mirror (she had a feeling it was two-way, anyway).

"I bet they're gonna torture us. And use our skin to make books and decorations."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Guys, quiet! No one is going to be tortured!"

"Not even...?" the blonde trailed off. Margo didn't answer.

XX

8

XX

Demidov still had horrible aim- after all these years, the Soviet agent still had the aim of an unskilled five-year-old. But he had improved; he'd managed to shoot his target at least twice.

Said target really, really hoped the bullets just grazed him. Not that it was his best day ever, but it didn't hurt to hope.

"Well, comrade, you interested in knowing who turned you in?"

He tried to crawl away and stopped in his tracks. "T- turned in?"

Demidov sneered, crouching over him. "Go on, guess. It's someone close to you."

He thought: well, there were quite a lot of people who would be willing to turn him in, his own mother included. But even she didn't HATE him that much, did she? Close, close.

"The Englishman?"

Demidov laughed. "Nefario, former double agent from the BIA, as funny as it would be, no, it's not him."

Wait. He knew now. He knew.

"FRED!"

"How does it feel to be- wait, what?"

"I knew it!"

Demidov groaned. "You just couldn't let me have a moment, could you, comrade? No! It was that girl."

"What girl?"

"You know, the little one with the glasses."

XX

XX

He didn't have a chance to respond before something smashed into Demidov's head, a yellow, odd-looking thing by the name of Dave.

Little one with glasses? It clicked. Oh, the irony. He smirked bitterly.

These Americans and their little weapons. Felonius Gru had escaped prison for an infinite number of times, had never been caught in an operation, had became infamous for stealing Soviet and North American technology with success, had successfully evaded the law's radar for who knows how long, and had actually stolen the moon for a grand total of fiteen minutes.

And all it took was one little girl to take him down.

XX

XX

The handsome man said his name was Lloyd Richardson; he told them everything would be alright. All nice and calm and soothing. He sat across from them, hands folded in a friendly posture and waiting patiently for them to speak, with the casual demeanor of someone in a hotel bar. _Just like the movies._

"We really don't know anything," Margo repeated, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Tsk, tsk, don't lie. We've got all day, kids."

"Do you, like, shoot people all day?" Edith suddenly asked.

"No. And remember, I'm asking the questions here."

"Do you like unicorns?"

"Yes. Now, just tell me your answers, girls- don't worry. Just relax and talk."

_This is going to take forever_. Margo frowned. "You already know everything." _Everything that I told Perkins. Way to go, Margo._

"Where's Russia?" Agnes piped in.

Lloyd sighed. "In Europe and Asia."

"Is that where Mr. Gru is?"

The man smiled, taking a moment to form his answer. "No, not yet. But he will be, very very soon."

"Can we go with him?"

"No."

"Plleeeaaassee."

"No."

"Is he coming back?"

"No."

Beep. It was a brief sound- Margo saw Lloyd pull a message of dots from the fax machine (?) beside him. The man paled, grit his teeth, and jumped up, nearly knocking the table over.

"So that's how you want to play it, Igumnov," he muttered harshly. "Girls, stay right here!"

XX

XX

"You, my friend, are in a lot of trouble."

"Ugh." _No, you don't say!_

Snip. Snip. Snip.

"My old bones are dying from all the physical effort! Good thing I'm still fit as ever, or there'd be no one to get you out of this."

"Un." _You're a bit late_!

"Honestly, Gru, you scramble through lasers and _missles_ without a scratch. And you can't handle a few bullets?"

"Ugh." _**** you, Nefario, **** you._

Tug. Pull. Slap.

"Well, get up, old chap! This is the war for me all over again- get up, come on- if you don't wake up, we'll both be dead in- a minute."

Wham.

"Ow!"

XX

XX

_"I will _never_ let go!"_

_Never? She hugged the little post on the aircraft. How many people had said the same thing to her? It had always been her catching her sisters; there never was anyone to catch her, not after her mother. She didn't like to sugarcoat things for herself, didn't like to hope too much just so it could be crushed._

_His arms were open. She- she- she believed him._

XX

XX

OK. Use context clues. She needed to guide them through the vents; then they'd be out of the building, somehow. And if she was right about (oh, she better be right!) Richardson's message, that meant "Igumnov" was still somewhere around them, alive for the time being.

She made the shush sign at her sisters and the trio stopped before the fan. They would be caught soon.

She'd just have to make the most of it.

But then what? Either they'd all die painful deaths, spend the rest of their lives in jail, or live happily ever after. There was an 80% chance of the first happening, a 199.9% chance of the second happening, and a negative 300% of the last happening.

XX

7

XX

All they needed to do was make it over the fence. He wasn't sure if charging at it (especially at their speed) was a good idea, but if the old doctor was to be believed, the other two agents had been taken care of.

And that meant there would be MORE coming their way.

"How did you get out of there?"

"Pretending to be a senile old man has its perks."

"You didn't have to pretend."

"What?"

Flashing lights and rapid sounds. It wasn't the ideal scene- they struggled to dart in between the spotlights, not that it helped much.

XX

XX

The vent crashed and the girls rolled out. They were in the storage room- she just needed to get them through that window and they'd be free.

"Come on."

Piling on top of one another, the "sisters" climbed to the sill and unlatched the narrow piece of glass.

"Agnes, you first."

"Edith."

"Help me up."

XX

XX

Lloyd shoved the report in the cabinet, closing it with a bang. He clenched and unclenched his fists- so the bastard thought he could get away again? No, not this time. This time, Igumnov was going down.

First, humiliating his dispatch, then insulting the nation by hiding in broad daylight, then manipulating children. Despicable.

He didn't know how far the manipulation went, but judging from the trail leading into the vent, he had a feeling the Red spy had somehow twisted the girls into little misguided things.

He twirled the revolver in his hands and set out. This was a private operation, whether Perkins wanted it or not.

XX

XX

_"Are you really a dentist?" she asked._

_"Yes, yes I am."_

_The children didn't seem too convinced. Whatever. "Just go watch the TV; remember, no annoying sounds and no bothering me."_

_"Can we watch Friday the Thirteenth?" the blonde asked._

_"Sure."_

_"I don't think that's appropriate," the oldest child commented._

_"Can we watch something about unicorns?" the youngest asked._

_"Just watch the TV and be quiet!"_

_"You talk funny."_

_He turned the television on, the round screen reflecting an unwanted amount of light. _

_"We can't see anything this way." The brunette again._

_With a stifled growl, he walked over the curtains and drew them shut. "Now it's too dark!" The youngest._

_He turned on the light. "You know, this is a waste of electricity." The brunette._

_Oh, it was going to be a long, long day._

XX

XX

The two men screamed, the yellow minion wailing between them. A three headed mutant had popped out of the nearby shadows. The mutant screamed back.

And its voices were strangely familiar.

The light flashed by, quick enough to provide a glimpse of the "mutant," three children huddled together.

"G- girls?"

"Mr. Gru?"

Then a third voice.

XX

XX

"Igumnov, you're always making me do things the hard way."

Lloyd took one step. He pointed the gun. He pulled the trigger.

XX

XX

* * *

**If you're as freaked out as me over this, high-five. Crack that works, I call this, an AU set in the not-so-distant past.**

**So this'll be a short fic, about 2-5 more chapters. Probably won't be updating in a while, though. So anyway, I hope this entertained you as much as it entertained me, hahaha. Complete madness, this was. But I don't regret a thing.**

**Fee free to review.**


	2. Beat 1

**For those of you who reviewed, thanks! I didn't plan to update for a while, but this kind of wrote itself pretty quick, so here's the next part, again with pieces not in order, but I think you can figure it out for yourselves- adds to the suspicion, no? Mostly background and semi-fluff this time, but it was inevitable- just makes the action more actiony.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

**Again, no phonetic accents and this time, there isn't any indication of different languages. It shouldn't be a challenge to tell who's speaking English and who isn't. *winks***

* * *

6

XX

XX

_Jacques grinned, cigarette dangling in his mouth, and ran a hand over his moustache before mushing the boy's hair._

_"Come on, light me, Felonius."_

_The child smiled and stood on his tiptoes as the man bent down. The fire from the match briefly lit the dark undergrounds, and soon he was taking in the smell of tobacco, so strong that it covered the scent of blood and dampness._

_A rumble from above, so strong that it shook them off their feet._

_"Oui, there's my call- it'll be over soon."_

_"Maman says it's never ever ever going to end."_

_Jacques rolled his eyes. "Say, you ever seen the sky, boy?"_

_"Oui."_

_"In the morning."_

_"Uh..."_

_"I used to play in the sun all the time at your age, you know that, 'nius?" Each word came with a puff of smoke._

_"And that's why I'm going back out- just tell your maman that she's wrong. We're going to play in the sun agin." More rumbling from above._

_The man winked and six-year-old_ _Felonius nodded eagerly. The flame went out._

XX

XX

He awoke to shafts of pouring sunshine. It was horrible. Hadn't he drawn the curtains tight last night?

Grumbling, the man sat up, taking a moment to stretch his aching back. Why in heaven's name were the curtains not shut! Too much sunlight conveyed happiness and happiness was not evil. Evil was happiness but not the other way around. It made perfect sense.

"Mr. Gru!"

And he fell out of bed.

The _things_ were right beside him, sprawled on the bed, lazily rubbing their eyes. "W- what are you doing here?"

"You told us we could stay, remember?" the one called Margo said, a hint of disdain in her voice.

"Yeah!" echoed the other two.

"Why would I do that!"

"There was a storm last night, and we got really really really scared." Angus- Agnes or something like that.

He rubbed his temples as the memory came back. A thunderstorm around midnight, Jacques' grin, the smoke, the bombs above. He really should have forgotten all that by now. Because in the end his mother had been right- Jacques went on to die, a bunch of upsetting things happened, and the sun was not at all nice to look at, especially not when it was shining on dead bodies and ruined buildings. _"See son? I'm always right. Now stop crying like you're six!" "I AM six!"_

"Fine, fine, just go away now."

"Are you cranky?" asked Agnes.

He picked them up one by one and placed them on the floor.

XX

XX

"Hello?" Margo whispered into the phone, the wire twisted in her hand.

"..." She gulped nervously. She had been expecting the officer who answered to speak longer. She hadn't expected the line to be cut and redirected, but the voice on the other side claimed that it took care of "situations" like hers.

"Me and my sisters are living with a man who may or may not be working for the USSR."

"Go on." Husky, cold.

"He posed as a doctor, which he isn't. He shows signs of abusive behavior-"

"I'm not a social worker."

"There's a book by Karl Marx in his drawer and a note in... Russian." She was guessing.

"His name?"

"Felonius Gru. G R U."

"That's fishy. Has he tried anything dangerous?"

"He drives around in some kind of tank... and I think he's making bombs in the basement."

"We'll keep note of him. Your name?"

"Margo, just Margo; we're orphans."

"I don't want your sob story. Stay in touch, Margo- the number's 666-698."

The line went dead. She frowned, hoping that the household's two men wouldn't tap into the calls, though she doubted they could. If all went well, she and her sisters would be out of there in no time. As undesirable as the orphanage was, at least it was safer than the environment here.

XX

XX

_He held the rifle in his hands and tripped upon firing in the dark, the men laughing, a mixture of Polish, French, and Russian in their comments. They told him to try again._

_"Pfft. Don't waste your time, boys. He'll just blow his fingers off." His mother, as always._

_"Maman!"_

_"Whiner."_

_One of the men took a whiff of his cigarette and asked him casually, "Any plans for the future, 'nius?"_

_His face brightened instantly. "I'm going to be a pilot!"_

_"You want to be a bomber?"_

_"No, I..." he hesitated. "I want to fly."_

_Not that kind of pilot. The kind that flew the planes across the things called oceans, bodies of water or so he was told, and circled the Earth, in the sky all day. Not where he was, not in the dank smelly tunnels. And he could fly away from it all._

_Maybe even away from the Earth itself._

XX

XX

Vict- _Vector_ Perkins laughed to himself as he again beat the final level of Street Fighter. The Nintendo Famicom took a moment to load and he raised the controller above his head. Oh yeah, he was good.

The phone rang. He ignored it and turned up the boombox. It was probably his old man again.

But the phone wouldn't stop. With a muffled groan, the young man picked up the telephone.

"Vector here."

"Victor, this is your father."

"Dad, it's Vector- you know, the mathematical term?"

"... Uh, anyway. I have a job for you, son. Something that will cement you in history and guarantee our bank success."

"Uhhh-huuuh."

"How does stealing the moon sound to you?"

"Bo-gus! We should take the ocean."

"Report to me tomorrow. We're taking the moon. Why else would I make you take the damn ray?"

"Aw man! Dad!"

"See you tomorrow."

Vector slammed the phone down, unknowingly twisting himself in the long wire and tripping.

XX

XX

_Gru grinned lowly, checking the documents in his hand. "Good job, Bob, very good job." He pat the minion on its head._

_It was good to have connections- a low-profile associate from Korea had actually answered the query (in the form of a party invitation). For a share of the profits, he'd tell him. The Asians were indeed working on a shrinking machine._

_Now all he needed was the location. And said associate, "Yong" (no other details were needed), wanted the reply by midnight. He would then go to China and from there, disappear off the face of the Earth. Yong wasn't exactly in favor with the Communists anymore or the law for that matter._

_All the easier._

_"Bob, Jerry, Ben," he called. "You three are making another trip tonight."_

_The party would be at eight o'clock sharp, Friday night, Park Drive 1950. Does Mr. Yong mind quarter cream coffee? AKA "how does one fourth sound to you?"_

XX

XX

Margo rewound the video tape for the fifteenth time. Edith groaned and Agnes laughed as _Unicorn Magic _played again, the bad acting and cheesy effects appearing on the screen.

"I'll die, man, I swear I'll die," Edith complained.

"Quiet, Edith."

She took her spot between her sisters on the couch and pretended to be engrossed in the movie, no doubt a cheap Blockbuster rental that Mr. Gru had picked up to distract them with. Still, just the fact that he had bothered to do it was odd.

And a part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, he did care about them.

XX

5

XX

He whistled to himself, hundreds of cheering yellow blobs behind him. Finally! Finally! It was all coming back together- the pinnacle of his career. They had the shrink ray, they had it, they had it! Albeit with a lot of complications in between, but the important thing was that they had it.

Now all he needed to do was get home, tell Nefario- and-

"AHHHHHHHH!"

The tank nearly careened off the road. He whipped around and glared at the three passengers. "WHAT?"

"Super Silly Fun land!"

This was followed by a high-pitched conversation about how great the park was and why he just had to take them there and that they would never ask for anything ever again. He doubted that.

He opened his mouth, about to say that they HAD to go home. Then he realized he could finally be rid of the pests forever.

"Lightbuuullb."

XX

XX

Gru used to think that jumping for an indefinite amount of feet onto the ground from a moving airplane was the ride of his life. He was proven wrong. Because that roller coaster was one of the most effective torture devices he had EVER come across. Period.

The fact that the girls enjoyed it this much just further proved his developing thesis: they were genetically engineered weapons, carefully trained by the U.S government for the sole purpose of murdering Agent Igumnov.

It was working.

XX

XX

_Margo dialed the number quickly. After a few rings, it picked up._

_"Hello- it's me, Margo."_

_"I don't have the time to remember names."_

_"I called about a Felonius Gru?"_

_"Ah, I remember. Any news?"_

_"He told me he was a spy today. Claimed to be working for our government."_

_"And why did he say that?"_

_"He was in the basement again. There were drills, weapons- he's trying to build something big. And he keeps these weird looking creature... things... with him."_

_"Anything else?"_

_"There's an old scientist working for him... in the basement."_

_"I'm talking with someone important now. Tomorrow, I contact you."_

_"But-"_

_"No one will know."_

XX

XX

"Tell us a story."

"Didn't we just read that book?"

"No, another story! Pleeeaase."

"Yeah, please!"

"Please!"

"Ay, fine." He heaved a sigh as the three girls sat up in their beds, apparently looking forward to whatever bad story he was about to weave. The kitten book, as horrible as he thought it was, wasn't going to be read that night. That meant it would be tomorrow. Wonderous.

"Okay. Uh- how to begin? Uh..."

"What about something about you, Mr. Gru?" Margo suggested.

He frowned. It was a bit fishy that the girl suddenly wanted an anecdote from him, but it would be easier than making something entertaining up. The hard part was what to tell; he doubted they'd have pleasant dreams over his tales of World War II, the crushed resistance, the Cold War, the Soviet training, or he and Demidov's means of getting information.

"O-kay. It was 1950. I was een school. My English was not very good and I had a funny name." They giggled.

"There was this girl, this really violent girl. She called me names, like hunchback and freaky Felonius, and just ugh, it was very annoying."

"Did she punch you?"

"A lot. More than the boys, actually." Why the hell was he still telling the story?

He still remembered, the vague memory of (her name?) elbowing him and beating him up and trying to pound the "accent" out. "I brought a book to school once, it was in French. She asked to look at it." More like beat him up, snatched it, and kicked him again.

"She called me weird for having it and asked why. I said I knew a lot of languages."

"So you were a dweeb, like Margo?" Edith interrupted again. He shrugged.

"So she started stealing all my books and putting them in stupid places." Like the toilet. "The only book she didn't get to was the one on space because I caught her doing it. She told me we could never get to the moon."

Agnes laughed. "But we did!"

"Yes, we did. But we didn't know that. So I got mad. And she got mad." _And I got beat up._

"She said because I was such a smartypants, we should work on the science project together. Or else." The girls giggled again.

He closed his eyes, wondering how to go on. He cut out a few parts, like her coming to him sobbing because her father had beat her, or him scrubbing off the words _Go Home Commie_ from the front door, or her coming up to him and asking "what's a commie?" or them fighting off a group of boys that had practically been trying to kill him.

"She made me go to the Corn Fair with her. Eet smelled like rotten corn." Hay. Corn. And farms; all terrible smells if his memory wasn't as foggy as he thought. He somehow still remembered her dragging him on the ferris wheel after forcing him to bob an apple (and hitting him with it).

"We went on the ferris wheel." "Like the one at the Pier?" "Yes." The smell of apples and the little girl's lips pressing softly on his. And then she had punched him. He remembered being... happy.

"And she punched me. Then we went home. And there were some more punchings after that. She was very annoying."

"Did she like you?" Agnes asked. He bit his tongue. Did she? Wait. Why was he even bothering with an answer! He didn't feel like arguing. "Maybe."

"Did you like her." "I guess; why not?"

"And finally the miserable year ended. The end."

The girls yawned in unison, snuggling in their covers. "What happened to her?" Agnes again.

"She..." His mother was going to relocate them again; this time, they were moving back to Russia. And the summer before that, he found out that- "She left."

"Aw."

"That's sad." Edith.

"Maybe she's still somewhere out there." Margo.

She had been sick. He remembered going to the little graveyard and leaving the space book with her. He turned the lights off and replied as he went out, "No, I don't think so."

"Goodnight kisses?"

"No!"

XX

4

XX

_The boy walked into the house, sporting a black eye and feeling very, very tired. His mother sat in her rocking chair, knitting another sweater._

_"I'm home, Maman."_

_"Eh."_

_He collapsed on the couch and wondered if he would have permission to turn the radio on. "Oh yeah, son, that reminds me."_

_"Your girlfriend's dead."_

_She went back to knitting as he slid off the couch._

XX

XX

On the way to the lab, he remembered. Her name was Debbie. _"Ha! If you ever get to the moon, hunchback, I'll marry you- which means that'll never happen, not even in a gazillion years!" _

XX

XX

Vector was forced to stop the VCR when the phone rang again. He ran to the receiver and picked it up. Maybe the chick from the mall had finally returned his call, for who could resist a man with direction _and_ magnitude.

"Hellooo."

"Do you have the shrink ray."

"Oh, hey dad."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, it's right here in the fortress, safe and sound."

"Are you sure about that?"

Perkins sounded like he was about to burst into flames. "Yes."

"Tomorrow. Meeting. Immediately!"

XX

XX

Yong started when the cab took a sharp left turn. "Hey! Driver- you're going the wrong way!"

He checked his watch- the plane left in two hours, and if they had to go around another loop, he would miss the flight for Beijing. The chauffeur ignored his complaints and continued down the wrong highway.

Flustered, the man pressed himself forward. "The airport is on the other lane- if you expect me to pay you when you're-"

He fell backwards roughly when the car pulled to a sudden stop.

2 AM.

The sidedoor opened. The driver adjusted the rearview mirror.

"I've already been paid."

Yong felt his blood run cold as Demidov climbed into the car. "I heard you're going to a tea party, Mr. Yong." Slightly accented English.

The gun pointed at his head. "Now, you're going to tell me who's party. And we'll make this quick."

Demidov fired and cursed in Russian when the bullet missed, leaving a harsh hole in the window. Yong sat rooted to the seat, face taking on a deadly shade of white. This was most definitely a plane delay.

"I'm not a good shot. But you're not leaving this car any time soon."

Yong shrank. Damn Igumnov. Damn himself.

"No one will miss you, Mr. Yong. So go ahead and tell me, who was it?"

XX

XX

"Igumnov."

XX

XX

Perkins swallowed his anger as he crumpled the message. Someone on the inside dared threaten him. No. He was the bureau's top resource for Cold War operations. Without him, they'd have no leads. Without him, they'd have no funding.

The only thing he asked in return was that they leave his "bank" alone. And here that damned Neyman was, trying to blackmail him because the bastard had somehow figured out his hand in villainous ventures. Because not all his money went to "native" criminals.

There was only one way to levy suspicion: turn in a few clients.

The bureau seemed to already be on the case of the missing shrink ray. The ray that caused a long string of problems.

The corners of his mouth twitched. He already knew who to start with, and thanks to a child, he had substantial proof. Yes, it was very useful to keep tabs on his clients, track their calls, monitor their actions.

If push came to shove with the bureau, he would start by getting rid of Felonius Gru.

* * *

**Okay, I lied- it wasn't that dull a chapter, haha. And yes, I know, the Debbie subplot was just mean, but hey, I regret nothing. **

**Well, thanks for tuning in to this slightly coherent crack, and reviews are welcome.**


	3. Beat 3

**Again, thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this. Crack continues with chapter 3, which also wrote itself pretty fast. And chronologically, this precedes chapter 1 AKA the climax.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

**Again, "normal" = English, underlined= Russian**

* * *

3

XX

XX

Margo felt her legs shake. Stupid shaking. It wouldn't stop, nor would the feeling in her throat. She wanted to laugh, cry, or both. He came back. He came back. He caught her. He said he'd catch her.

She clutched the fabric of his pants as they moved along the ground. Never before had she had such an urge to kiss the ground. Vector was gone, the moon was gone, and her sisters were safe.

And nobody was going to go splat! against the ground.

"Are you taking us back, Mr. Gru?" Agnes piped from her spot on his shoulders.

"Yeah!" Edith from behind the other leg.

_Are you?_ The lump in her throat again. He stiffened as the neighborhood came into view, Nefario and the minions charging ahead in the less than conspicuous vehicle.

"Eet is not that easy, girls."

She swallowed the lump. And he smiled. "But yes, I am taking you back."

He said he'd catch her and he did.

XX

XX

Perkins frowned. The moon was back in the sky: that meant one of them had failed, be it his son or the villain that refused to quit.

It didn't matter at that point anymore. He rearranged the file on his desk; everything about Felonious Gru, in that little stack of papers- half the data he had to fill in himself. Yes, it was always good to keep tabs on his clients.

Richardson's men were already on the case. If the clock wasn't wrong, Perkins would expect them to make the arrest right about-

XX

XX

Black cars parked around the block. Ignoring the prying eyes of neighbors, Gru scooped the girls into his arms and walked up to his house. He didn't like what was going on. Really didn't like it.

They got to the porch, and the door was open. _Oh, don't tell me..._

Two men stepped out, faces obscured by shades and speaking into what looked suspiciously like walkie talkies. What bothered him the most was what they had in their hands: screaming yellow creatures.

"What's going on?" Margo asked nervously.

"Eh... nothing."

"Unhand me! I say!" Nefario was roughly carried out by another set of men. "Do you have warrants!" "Yes, we do." "That's beside the point!"

"Doesn't look like nothing." Edith.

He backed away slightly. It shouldn't be too much to worry about- just some arrests. It's not like it hadn't happened before; he would just make a grand escape like he always did. It was a bit suspicious, though. There hadn't been any deparment daring enough to pursue him in a long, long time.

"Mr. Igumnov."

The man said it with a gun pointed at his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you gonna shoot us?" Edith- typical.

"Relax, Igumnov. I just want to talk- it's been a while. So just put the kids down and we'll have a nice little chat."

XX

XX

_He packed away the dynamite and prepared to leave the institution. This was too easy. The British officer hung upside down behind him, surprisingly calm for someone of his position. It was unnerving._

_"Are you not scared?"_

_The Englishman grinned. "I was only wondering, Soviet- don't you think that this is a waste of potential?"_

_Igumnov frowned, fingering the tube in his hands. One drop and there would be an explosion the size of the building itself- all thanks to the man before him. "Keep talking."_

_"For both of us really. I'm quite sick of this bloody lifestyle- I work for them, work for them, work for them. And the pattern continues. And what about you, lad? Work for them, work, work. Wouldn't things be easier, better, if we worked for ourselves?"_

_"What do you want?"_

_"Let's work together, you and I. Go off the radar."_

_It was an interesting prospect. He was never that patriotic to begin with. "And why should I trust you?"_

_"Well, life is about risk taking, isn't it? Name's Nefario, by the way."_

_"Igumnov."_

_"You're not trusting me." Damn, that man was good, very good at manipulation. "Trust me, and I'll show you the rest of my weapons. Come on."_

_"Gru."_

_"Ah- there we go."_

_And with those words out of their mouths, he had betrayed the agency for good._

XX

XX

"I'm afraid you have me meestaken with somebody else," he said, rather unconvincingly. Margo squirmed behind his leg.

"There are a lot of things we could arrest you for, Mr. Gru, but this one thing unsettles us the most," the other man said, finger on the trigger. He had a feeling that the man would press it too.

A variety of European curses circled in his mind, but now wasn't the time to act on them. After all, there were children in earshot. Damn it! This made no sense- all those years under the radar and now they come? Of all times, they had to choose now?

"Wait- let me make a few calls," he said at last.

"Can't do."

"Oh- come on! Just one eensy call."

"No."

There was no getting away, that much he knew. He didn't care too much about that at the moment, oddly enough. He was still living in that cloud of contentment, knowing that the children were okay, alright, safe.

He turned around and gulped. Hopefully, they wouldn't see it as him trying to get rid of them again. Heaven forbid.

"This is quite the complicated situation... so... I want you three to find a cab and take it to my mother's house. Do you remember the address?"

Margo nodded. The other two looked confused, understandably so.

"Mr. Gru, they're coming with us," the man interrupted.

He froze. His limbs felt so stiff that he couldn't even bother with repeating the words. Every little strain he had put on his aging form seemed to come back and bite him at the moment, the near burns of the missles, the tearing of muscles, the aches of joints and marrows and limbs that were far past the age of bouncing and stretching.

"Interrogation- that's all we need," drawled a familiar voice.

XX

XX

The scene was surreal, and that was saying a lot given the events of the afternoon. Margo felt herself squirm, felt her hands go sweaty. It didn't look like Mr. Gru was about to be apprehended for any acts of "villainy."

The black clad men said they had to come too. Go where? She had a feeling she knew, but she thought...

She hoped not.

"Interrogation."

A movie star appeared, at least that was her first thought. This next man did not have his eyes covered with shades and he was smiling pleasantly at them. He was very handsome, almost like the men she saw in Edith's favorite spy movies.

But Mr. Gru's tensing body told them this was not going to be a pleasant affair.

"You thought so little of us, Mr. Igumnov? Hiding in broad daylight?"

"It took you long enough, deedn't it?"

"Hmmm."

"O-kay, do whatever you want now, but send them away."

The man approached the girls, still smiling. "Girls, I'm going to need you come with me, alright?"

Margo was about to ask why, but Agnes beat her to it.

"You see, your guardian here is in a bit of trouble. We just need to sort some things out and some of those things involve you."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Spy trouble."

"Oh."

"Cool."

"..." She was right, then. It _was_ her fault.

"They don't know anything," Mr. Gru shot.

She wanted to faint. Or die. Or both. Because she did know, a lot.

"We just need to be sure. Sources told us otherwise."

"Sour-"

Another man promptly slammed into him and Margo winced as several more joined the pile. The handsome one put his hand on her shoulder.

XX

2

XX

_Perkins glanced at the files before him, some pending new clients. One Philip Neyman and one Felonius Gru. The latter file was near blank and the former was brimming. It annoyed him._

_It didn't matter. He'd cut to the chase._

_"So, Neyman, it says here you're a Bureau agent, you've got five years of experience."_

_"Y- yes it does, sir."_

_"So aren't you afraid that I'll rat you out to them? I do have close connections."_

_"I- I think I'll prove myself valuable... sir."_

_"Fair enough. You need funding for-?"_

_The young man chuckled nervously, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm going to kidnap the ambassador's daughter, then get her pregnant- consensually, of course- then you know, blackmail..."_

_It was a stupid plan, but stupid in an evil way. Good enough._

_"And why quit the Bureau?"_

_"Well... you see, I was fired, actually. And Mr. Perkins, I think I'd be much more useful as a villain... sir."_

_"Why not just join the other side?"_

_"I have a grudge against them... sir."_

_"So you'd be willing to betray them all if need be?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"You do seem young, frisky... fill out these forms, Neyman."_

_"Thank you sir!"_

_"Now get out of my office."_

XX

XX

Neyman took a sip of coffee, making sure to savor its taste. Oh, sweet victory, sweet revenge. All those years of trauma had finally paid off. Igumnov was going to pay- he'd be sure of it. And Richardson- Richardson was going to fall like he did.

And Perkins. Perkins was in his hand now.

He sat in the chair and did a pivot with it. Perkins' chair. He grinned.

"So I'd say we took care of the common enemy, sir."

Perkins frowned behind him. "My enemy, not yours, Neyman."

"Whatever you say, sir. So what are the chances of him getting away?"

The older man seemed to chuckle. "He's not going to."

XX

XX

"I'm having him killed."

XX

XX

_"Hello? Hello? Mr. Perkins?" she whispered._

_No reply, but someone had indeed answered the phone. Margo glanced at her feet nervously._

_"I just wanted to tell you to forget everything I said- I mean I wasn't thinking rationally. It's all just been coincidence."_

_She had to hurry- they had their dance lessons soon. _

_"I'd like to drop all charges against Felonious Gru."_

_She hung up, hoping that the receiver got her message._

XX

XX

"Do you know Mr. Perkins?" Margo asked hopefully, staring up at one of the silent men.

The van pulled to a stop and the siblings were led out of the vehicle and into the barbed premises of several interconnected grey buildings.

"He wants to talk to you," the handsome one said, taking her by the hand and leading them into one of the foreboding buildings.

"What about my sisters?"

She glanced nervously behind as the other two girls were led the opposite direction.

"You'll be with them shortly. He wants to say something to you first."

"What about Mr. Gru?"

"Someone will explain about him later."

They arrived at a large golden door and Margo was left alone in the marble hall, a clear contrast with the building's exterior.

XX

XX

He felt groggy, tied to a steel chair and sitting in near-complete darkness. He heard the fan move above him. _I thought this was interrogation_.

"Hey, wake up, Igumnov."

The voice was very annoying. "I am awake."

"I would use light, but that wouldn't be as nostalgic, wouldn't it?"

Alright, who the heck was this?

"A lot of us wanted to get our hands on you, especially Richardson, but even he doesn't know that I'm an hour earlier."

Whoever it was kicked him in the shin. He hissed. "Ohh, that hurt, didn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"Just some idiot rookie you tortured back in the day, remember?"

The annoying person struck him again, and this time he could taste a bit of blood on his mouth. To be honest, he really couldn't remember.

"You know, I was really happy when I saw Perkins' files- he's an idiot really, but he did one thing right- keep tabs on _you_."

Another hit. Another speck of blood. He hoped the other person wasn't planning on making this a regular thing.

"Really, who are you?"

He twisted his hands. It would be easy- the bonds weren't anything he hadn't come across in the past. He just needed to remember how to get them off. Left, up, right, down, shake, there, down-

He coughed in pain. Getting kicked in the groin was not pleasant.

Up, right, left- Free.

"Name's Philip, Philip Ney-"

The chair clattered and he was on the "Philip" person, rummaging the body for a weapon. His hand closed on a gun. There wasn't time to check if it was loaded or not.

XX

1

XX

Demidov swung the door open. Nothing. The fan rolled. A chair on the ground and an unconscious man on the floor.

He grinned.

"So it's time for a chase, Felonius?"

His hand went to the gun in his jacket. "I'm fine with that, more than fine."

* * *

**Hope that entertained you and was worth wasting your time on. As always, reviews are welcome.**

**Only 3 more chappies left, I reckon.**


	4. Bang

**So here's another bit of our out-of-order story. I don't know why, but this thing writes itself so well.**

**Leblover: Aw, thank you! I'm really flattered you think this way- sorry to leave you hanging this long, but popular demand. And I hope you'll contribute something to this archive- bet it'll be great. Again, really flattered by your reviews. And since you enjoyed the little Debbie blurb, I'll leave a small, small spoiler: something about her will show up in a few chaps (probably the one after the next).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM.**

* * *

XX

XX

No sound. No sound at all. Even the yellow thing was quiet. Still.

Lloyd kept the revolver in position; he knew he fired and he knew he didn't make an empty target. Time slowed down, sped up, and they breathed again.

A curse snapped in his ears. A loud string of bloody hells and an array of colorful language that the children shouldn't be hearing. All from the old doctor's mouth, and the Englishman was on his knees.

As soon as Igumnov folded and fell.

Lloyd walked toward the group, slower than need be- the man wouldn't be getting up for a while. It was time to finish the job.

"You shot him."

He recognized the voice. It belonged to one of the girls, the blonde in pink, who insisted on standing in his way. He looked past her- there wasn't enough light to make out what the other two were doing. They were clustered around Igumnov and he doubted they'd be trying to escape.

"You shot him." She said it again, enunciating every word as if she was learning a new language, trying to make sense of the meaning.

"Get out of th-"

"You. shot. him!"

XX

XX

It was the third time he found himself on the ground that day, against his will yet again. _Well, this was... unexpected._

Nefario was shouting, but he couldn't bother to figure it out. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. It didn't hurt at-

He took that back. It hurt. A LOT. The villain could only stare at his own hand, the heavy wetness on his palm, the source somewhere around his side. He supposed this was it. There really was no such thing as a karma houdini, was there?

Holy WHOA, it hurt.

XX

XX

_"What did I say about not being annoying!"_

_The girls looked away sheepishly. Margo decided to speak. "Well, it is a family tree- we were just improvising, yeah!"_

_Mr. Gru moaned. "You only used crayon, right?" He gestured at the vandalized wall. They nodded._

_Margo was waiting for the words that would make or break the family: wash it off. To her astonishment, they never came._

_"It's dinner time."_

_"Pizza?" the black-haired sister asked hopefully._

_"With broccoli."_

_"Awww!"_

_"No complaining! You don't want trouble pooping again, do you?"_

XX

XX

"Edith, get away from him!" she screeched.

For once in her life, Margo really _didn't_ know what to do. Edith was busy latching herself on Lloyd Richardson in the most violent ways possible, and there was nothing to do but call her back.

"Edith, please!"

The girl's reply was a loud shriek as she unsuccessfully tackled Richardson's legs. Dave had, in a surprisingly wise move, put his hands over Agnes' ears- the child wouldn't be exposed to any more of Nefario's language.

"Doctor, what-!"

"Shhh! Don't bother me, don't bloody bother me! Damn it! Damn it! Lad, don't do this, don't bloody do this now, boy!"

Margo felt her knees go weak. The old man's hands were soaked in blood as he attempted to press the other man's wound. But there was so much blood, pooling and flowing like there was no tomorrow. It reminded her of the movies Edith always tried to watch, only this time, instead of feeling offensively bored, she felt downright sick.

And very much like crying.

She stooped beside the doctor, and pursed her lips in horror. Mr. Gru hadn't just been shot once, she didn't want to know how many times; she could already see the bandages coming apart, soaked by the blood from other areas.

Edith fell with a thump. Richardson had kicked her aside.

That was it. That was the final straw.

XX

XX

Lloyd tried not to shoot, not yet. He had to remind himself these were just children, but they were getting in his way.

The oldest child had decided to charge at him too, and now both children were trying to claw off his legs. He had to admit, for their age and gender, they were rather strong. He continued forward, ignoring the pinches and punches that the girls continued to throw.

His desperation to take down Igumnov had clouded his judgement. He shouldn't have kicked the blonde- that only provoked the one named Margo, and now instead of one accidental target to watch out for, he had two.

"I'm warning you two- get out of my way."

"Or what! You'll shoot us?" Edith was again wrapped around his leg, staring up at him with a look of pure hate.

"I don't shoot children, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to hit you if I have to!"

Damn it! He worked too hard for this, lost too much for this. He wasn't going to stop just because of some unruly children.

"You're not touching him!" the brunette shouted as he shook her off.

He then shoved the other child aside as he continued the march forward, stopping within two feet of Igumnov's form. It was finally going to happen- the bureau was finally going to get rid of the rogue.

"Any last words?" he asked, detached.

"Fuck off!" the Englishman yelled. Lloyd scowled. _Not from you_.

XX

XX

_The young man was a broken mess by the time Agent Richardson arrived. He was babbling incoherently, not even trying to struggle against the bonds that strapped him to the table._

_"Neyman, it's me, it's me, Lloyd," he said softly, coming around the table._

_"L- Lloyd, I'm sor- sor- he- he-"_

_There were no obvious wounds other than a bloody mouth and the basic cuts and bruises. Lloyd motioned behind him, signaling the rest of his dispatch to search the area- the laboratory was vacated._

_He punched a nearby flask, shattering it. Igumnov. Igumnov. Igumnov. He had done it again, waltzed in and stolen plans for weaponry. Valuable plans. And this time, he even had the Bureau's plans._

_"How much did you tell him, Agent Neyman?" he asked, trying not to snap as he freed the man._

_"..."_

_Lloyd inspected the area. The table was wet- how long had Neyman been stuck there? He knew now. Water torture, hours on end of dripping water. He sighed; what had the British been thinking? Asking the Bureau to send rookies on a mission like this._

_"Everything," Neyman squeaked, "I told him everything."_

_"I'm taking you home- no second chances." Cold._

_He ignored Neyman's sobs. It was for the best- at this rate, national security would be in danger soon. And he had a sinking feeling that there was a traitor in their midst. Someone had informed Igumnov that there would be people on his trail. Someone who knew. Someone who knew the ability of those people. Almost as if..._

_"Nefario!"_

XX

XX

A gasp. Almost a choke. Igumnov looked up at him, eyes glossed over.

"What... eul... em..." he muttered. Lloyd took one more step. The other man coughed and took a few more gasps.

"What- what will... ppen... to them?" The voice was barely audible, but the bureau agent heard it just fine. They were jarring words- for a moment, it almost seemed as if Igumnov genuinely cared.

He raised the gun and trained it on the man's head. "I'll detain them for a while longer, see what else they're capable of." Then probably send them back where they came from, or relocate them, separate them. He had to take precautions.

"Richardson," Igumnov wheezed, "let them go... s' me you w- want... just let them go... I- I'm your bad guy."

Lloyd, against better judgement, hesitated. For whatever reason, he didn't know- emotion was something his line of work didn't allow.

But that hesitation was all it took to cost him the chance to fire. Because the three girls jumped into his line of fire, and there was no way he was about to gun them down.

"I told you three- get out of my way!"

He fired at the ground, the impact earning a small yelp from the youngest child. Lloyd grit his teeth; the children were adamant- they had no intention of budging. _What the hell did you do to them, Igumnov?_

"...irls... move." The Soviet's voice. Lloyd walked closer, ignoring Nefario's rapid profanities and the yellow thing's vehement string of speech.

He didn't know what Igumnov's ploy was this time, but after dealing with him for all these years, he knew it was highly uncharacteristic for the man to refuse a meat shield. But he said it, didn't he- he wanted the children to move.

_Damn you, bastard, all these years and I still can't read you_. The same terrible hesitation.

XX

XX

Margo gulped and tried not to gasp as she shook her head, standing protectively in front of her sisters. She didn't know how, but there was no way on Earth she was going to let Mr. Richardson kill anyone there, not one person.

He glared down at the trio, gun raised again. She wasn't going to move. She dared him to shoot.

"Go ahead, kill me, it doesn't look too hard for you," she spat, the heat building in her eyes.

"He told you to move," the man replied, mechanical.

She closed her hands around the other girls. _I'm not moving_. The glasses seemed to be slipping. She couldn't move- if she moved, there would be no one to stand between her sisters and that... that... _that_. And if she moved, there would be no one to stop it from murdering Mr. Gru.

Margo shook her head, her sister doing the same. She didn't care if Mr. Gru wanted them to move. He wasn't going to leave them again. She wouldn't let him abandon them again.

Lloyd didn't seem intimidated. He followed the dare and placed one hard hand on her head. She screamed and kicked as he shoved her aside, pushed her away, pushed Edith away.

"No! No!" she shouted. "No!"

She was on the ground, the wind knocked out of her, Edith gasping on top. Her heart seemed to stop- Agnes was the only one left in the way.

"Don't you touch her!" She couldn't get up fast enough.

XX

XX

She didn't have to.

XX

XX

Lloyd's eyes widened as a sharp pain shot up his hand. The smallest girl had her teeth firmly chomped on the hand holding the gun. He tried shaking her off to no avail.

Firing was not an option. "Get off!"

"Nnnnnn!"

"Bite his bloody hand off!" the doctor cried.

"Agnes!" And now the other two were back, wrapped around his legs, nails clinging so tightly that he could feel the pants tearing.

He could feel a burning wetness soaking his pants, hear muffled sobs. It didn't make any sense. And for the first time in over ten years, he felt a pang, a small, dull pang that reminded him.

A little boy hugging his sister, begging him to spare their mother. _Please, please, please, we'll do anything, please_. And it hurt to see that; was their mother a good mother? Had she been kind to them? If so, then why did she do what she did? Why seduce Perkins, why pry at the Bureau, why try to undermine them?

_A bullet through the child's head. The mother dead, the sister killed_. An image that he never quite purged.

Because it made him feel. It made him doubt.

Lloyd shook the children off, only for them to stand back up and look at him with trembling, balled fists and quivering lips. He had regretted it then, and he would regret it now.

XX

XX

He lowered the gun, ever so slightly.

XX

XX

"I don't know what you did to them, Igumnov, what you're up to, how you did it... but it's damn near convincing."

Gru heard the words through an ocean of waves, strained and familiar. Richardson. Richardson said it. He stared up at the man through half-shut eyes, the lids threatening to close and never open. He didn't understand the words.

_English. He's speaking English._

All he knew was that the gun was lowered and Richardson wasn't even looking at the girls. That was good. That was very good. They'd be fine, fine.

"Why?"

Richardson seemed to don another expression, something he had never seen on the man. He looked gentle (?).

"I have my reasons."

His eyes slipped shut.

XX

XX

"Traitor," Lloyd directed at Nefario, "listen carefully, all of you."

His voice fell into a quiet, cold set of instructions. "I'm going to let you go, Igumnov- the yellow thing shocked me; we struggled and this gun fell."

He threw the weapon on the ground, the group unfazed. "There's a vehicle outside the perimeter- it belongs to one of the custodians. The old man commandeered it, and the girls escaped while I was distracted. And Igumnov managed to leave by a stroke of luck."

"Understand?"

The girls nodded vigorously. "Do it all as quickly as you can." _Before I change my mind._

And as soon as the words left his mouth, Lloyd saw the children by Igumnov's side. He could tell that the old doctor had questions, but they both understood one thing: there was no time for questions.

"Whether or not you get away is beyond my jurisdiction."

Lloyd turned away from them. They were no longer his concern.

XX

XX

As if on cue, his companions slid out of the chute, arguing with one another and trying to punch out each other's eyes. Had the situation been different, Dave would have joined in, but they had a job to do.

A very big job.

And one look at the boss was all it took for the five minions to shut up.

Nefario spouted nonsensical orders at them, something about a truck, they needed to carry him, they needed to carry the boss too, they needed to be fast, something about a bastard, something about being fast.

XX

XX

_Igumnov grinned at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Come at me, Richardson, eef you are not afraid!"_

_Picking his bruised form off the floor, Lloyd charged as the other man pulled a lever and the floor beneath him levitated, and the gap between them widened. At the same time an explosion went off behind him._

_He cried out and slipped down the tilting ledge, one hand still grappling at the gun. He pointed and fired, Igumnov laughing as each bullet missed._

_"Looks like I am getting a-way again!"_

_Another explosion. And he could see nothing but smoke._

_"Damn you!"_

XX

XX

After a period that seemed like forever, Lloyd turned around, feeling a sensation of relief and dread. They were gone.

His fingers felt stiff and foreign. He had been so close. So close to ridding the world of Igumnov forever, to settling their feud, to winning for the Bureau.

A bullet through the mother's head. The death of his own father so long ago.

Lloyd eyed the huge splatter of blood on the empty ground and the little trail of red that led into the dark. It would be impossible for Igumnov to make it at this point, that much he knew. _You didn't get away this time_.

And the one time that Agent Igumnov didn't get away unscathed, Agent Richardson almost wished he did, if only for the sake of those screaming children.

* * *

**So that was that. The flashback about the kids in full will show up soon. In the meantime, you'll just have to bear with me to see what happens next. And in case anyone asks, the Bureau isn't the most fortified of places because I didn't want to stray "too" much from the DM world- the one where you can adopt children in ten minutes and replace the pyramids with a floaty.**


	5. Beat 2

**Well, sorry for the wait, but I had to get some other things done first. So for those of you reading/ reviewing, thank you for taking the time and I hope this continues to entertain.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

* * *

"Do you have some kind of pancake disorder?" Margo asked.

Her guardian frowned, steering the shopping cart away from her. The farther apart he was from the brats, the better. Unfortunately, the youngest one was in the toddler seat and staring right at him. Talking.

"Do you have a talking disorder?" he snapped, plucking two cans of soup from the _middle_ of the can stack. He hoped it would collapse soon. Heh heh.

"Why are you laughing?" Edith said, dropping more bars of candy into the cart (without Gru's permission).

The stack collapsed. "Hey, that _is_ funny."

He double-checked the grocery list. Pancake flour. Check. Eggs. Check. Pancake flour. Check. Soup. Check. Pancake flour. Check. Vegetable oil. Check. Pancake dough. Check. Oatmeal. Check. Unicorns-

"What the-?" He sighed, glaring down at the girl in the cart. "Did you do this?"

"Maybe. And I'm going to own a unicorn farm. And there'll be one named Alice and-"

"Yes, yes. That is very nice, but I'm going to need you to be qui-et now. Okay? _Okay_?"

"Okay." She pursed her lips together, then broke them apart again. "Then I'm going to-"

GAH. He pushed the cart down another aisle, just in time to see a mop of copper hair. Immaculatey combed and still with a curly loose strand- he caught his breath. He hadn't seen that strand in decades.

The man was smiling at a young teenager, her giggling at his every word. He wasn't as boyish, Gru'd give him that. But there was no doubt- that was him. That was Lloyd Richardson, with his sculpted chin and sea blue eyes, with all the finesse of a gentleman.

And his cart was empty.

That wasn't good. Were they onto him again? Carefully, he steered the cart away, but not before picking Edith up and setting her on his shoulders- hopefully her body would hinder Richardson's view of his profile.

"Hey, is this a piggy back ride?"

"Eh."

"What was that for?" Margo asked with a frown. "Mr. G-"

He coughed loudly.

XX

XX

_"Just stick with me, Demidov," he said with a sneer, "and we can't go wrong."_

_"Are you sure this is safe, comrade?" the younger man asked, sticking his head out of the plane._

_"There's only one way to figure it out."_

_"How?"_

_Gru smiled. Before he shoved Demidov out. "Remember to pull the parachute!"_

_"You're evil, you know that!"_

_"Yes, yes I do!"_

_Natascha shook her head at him. "You're both terrible kissers, Felonius. I need to practice on someone better."_

_He scoffed and prepared to jump. Just get into the base and out- the Americans won't even see it coming. "You'll be trying on that Richardson anyway."_

_"He's handsome, but really? I thought Perkins was the target."_

_"Make sure you remember that, comrade." He jumped._

XX

XX

Lloyd had his suspicions. He went through Perkins' files on this "Gru." _Bastard's keeping something from me_.

The guy was a comic book villain- he was wasting his time on him. This little war had been going on far too long and the Bureau's top financer was just one gigantic corrupt thorn in their side. The thought of Perkins even being a field agent once made him sick.

But Perkins had insisted that this client of his was the Igumnov, the one they'd been trying to catch for years. Then why was he only showing it to him now- obviously because Perkins had stopped profitting from him, Lloyd deducted.

He had spent a week passing by the location of the call, from Gru's ward (apparently). The house was showy, the car was showier, and the man tried to use Alfred Hitchock for his profile.

Hell, he'd even followed the showy car to the supermarket. And now his own car was dented because of the other man's horrible driving skills.

He didn't care about Gru's personal life (or his pancake fetish). But he wasn't about to call him "Igumnov" just yet.

He didn't hear enough of the man's voice and he never got a clear look at his face.

But if Perkins was so intent on accusing him, so be it. Lloyd put the files back in order and thought of the next order of business.

XX

XX

It was thundering hard. Agnes screamed shrilly, jumping into Edith's bunk. The blonde growled, sitting up.

"Margo, we can't sleep."

Agnes trembled and the oldest sibling put on her glasses. Darn it- they were heavy. "Try to."

Another flash of lightning. Boom.

They all screamed.

Hugging her sisters, Margo wondered what to do. They could huddle together and wait for it to- Boom! They screamed again. She never liked the thunder, but back at Ms. Hattie's, the rooms were smaller and there were more people.

To be frank, Mr. Gru's house was no better than a haunted one.

Boom.

XX

XX

_Her children huddled behind her, sobbing and screaming. The woman shot him._

_She was out of bullets. Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Lloyd stalked closer- it had been quite a scuffle and he wasn't about to desert the mission just yet. "Why?" he asked._

_Natascha glared; no, not Natascha- he knew that wasn't her real name, nothing he knew about her had been real. "I vill not tell ze likes of you."_

_There was something in her eyes- almost trust. Almost as if she thought what they had meant something. His shoulder ached. No, he couldn't fall for her trap. She was the one that betrayed him, them, the bureau._

_"Where is the information?"_

_"..."_

_"If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to hurt you."_

_"Tell Perkins I'll see him een hell."_

_The boy was on his knees, begging him not to shoot. "Please, please!" Like it was the only word he knew. He remembered his own father; how the convict had just killed the cop like a dog. _

_"I'm sorry," he said stiffly._

_She knew what she was getting herself into. She knew this was the consequence- she knew Perkins wouldn't let her get away with humiliating him. Her comrades didn't give a damn._

_"Please tell me," he said again._

_"No, Lloyd. I do what I must- it's what I believe in." She said it fiercely._

_He fired._

XX

XX

Trying not to scream, Margo led her sisters into the large bedroom. Stepping over the dog (?), they hastily made their way over to the bed. Mr. Gru was muttering something to himself. Weirdo.

Without warning, Agnes leapt into the covers and huddled by the man's side. Margo and Edith followed suit. Boom.

"Mr. Gru?" she whispered.

"Mm."

"Mr. Gru?"

"What?" he asked groggily. Either he didn't mind their presence or he was completely oblivious to the situation at hand. The latter was more likely.

"Can we stay with you?"

"Get away from that!"

He was sleep-talking. "Please, for Agnes and Edith, at least," she begged.

"Get over here." His eyes opened slightly. "Fine, fine, whatever."

And he was out again. Margo allowed herself a moment of rest- the thunder wasn't as scary now. Now that they were all together, more or less.

XX

XX

_He stumbled through the small tunnel, the sound of alarms all around him. "Maman!"_

_She didn't answer him, as usual. Boom. He fell, clutching his head- Jacques wasn't nearby. He crawled away and ran again. "Maman!" Boom. Boom._

_Sobs. He stopped. "What?"_

_A familiar little girl with chocolate brown eyes and her two companions. Were they stupid? Did they want to get bombed!_

_"Get away from that!" he shouted. _

_"Can we stay with you?" the girl with glasses asked. He ran towards them and scooped the smallest one up- he tugged at the other two and led them away from the booms. "Get over here."_

_Boom. And they were running, away from the sirens, away from the bombs. For some reason, he was a man again- for some reason he knew their names- wait a minute-_

_Boom. Flash. _

XX

XX

Here he was, staking outside the man's house again, binoculars in hand. Lloyd frowned.

Maybe he shouldn't have joined the Bureau in the first place- he couldn't even catch one man. And his superior wasn't exactly the image of patriotism. No! What was he saying- he had to join.

His old man would have wanted it. His country would have wanted it. It was everything he had promised his father.

_But what did you promise her?_

That hadn't been real. He had spoken in a fit of passion that night, told her that he could save her, make her better, be with her. It hadn't meant anything. But it did. No, it didn't.

Not when he walked past that crying child, the boy's eyes glazed and disbelieving as he stared down at the body. Emotion didn't belong in his line of work. He positioned the binoculars.

And nearly fell backwards. Perkins had been right.

He had aged over the years, but there was no doubt- the penguin nose, the arched back- it was Igumnov.

XX

XX

"How long are you going to entertain them?" Nefario asked, not pleased at all.

Gru shifted nervously, marking the dates on the calendar. "Sheesh, take a chill pill, doctor- it's-"

"No! Did you forget what our plans were? And did you just tell me to take a chill pill!"

"As I said, it's nothing- we'll-"

Nefario was in his face. "Listen here, boy. If we don't start cleaning up our act, someone will have to do something. I don't care who- and neither should you."

"Wow, that rhymed."

The doctor glared and wheeled himself out. Maybe Nefario was right, maybe- something ticked from above. He had to get the food out; heaven forbid the girls whine about hunger again.

XX

XX

"Margo, what's wrong- you're acting all freaky," Edith said, lazily flipping the channels.

The brunette ignored her. She felt like someone was watching them- probably just a minion... cousin. She relaxed.

"Do you like it here, guys?" she asked.

"Mmm hmm!" Agnes jumped on the couch. And kept jumping.

"I guess," Edith mumbled.

Margo sank back in her seat. Did _she_ like it here? No... of course not.

* * *

**This is really fun to write, and I think next update will be faster. So stay tuned, and feel free to review!**


	6. Click

**Been a long time, but this fic's almost finished! And we're back to the "main scene." Again, I don't type accents phonetically.**

**regular = English underlined= Russian**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

* * *

"Edith, stop looking."

Margo nudged her siblings toward the window, the truck's dim headlights illuminating the dark path ahead. They jolted as it took another turn, their "cousins" squabbling over how to drive and Nefario turning the wheel in a manner that violated at least ten driving regulations.

Edith tried craning her neck again. Margo blocked her view. Agnes was curled at her side, worn out and shaking.

"Stop. Looking."

"Why not?"

"Just... just don't."

Keeping her back to Edith's eyes, Margo cast a glance at the figure behind them. Mr. Gru was still bleeding, the blood slick against the seat and floor. And the smell. The smell was in her nose, in her head, everywhere.

* * *

_"Oh, gross, you didn't bleed over my things did you?" he asked, dabbing at her nose._

_Margo rolled her eyes. "You're a great parent, you know that."_

_"How did this even happen?" Mr. Gru put a hand on her chin and rather forcefully tilted it upwards. _

_"Edith was playing with your decorations. Since there are no _responsible_ adults around, I had to stop her, and well- you know the rest."_

_"Pfft. I tell you not to touch my things, but no, do the brats listen, no!"_

_The smell of blood was clogging her nostrils. Margo coughed, forcing it to go down her throat. It really was gross._

_"Stop that! That's just disgusting. You'll be hacking up blood in one hour." _

_She kept the cloth against her face. "What do you want me to do, then?"_

_"Just stay here! I will get some ice. You, just stay here, and don't touch anything!"_

_"You're going to punish Edith, right?"_

_"Yes, yes, time-out for your seester."_

_"_Sees_ter."_

_He made a sound of annoyance before leaving. _

* * *

"Is he gonna die?" Agnes asked, half-asleep.

Margo held the other girl on her lap. The smell was still there. She knew the rest of them could smell it too. She didn't know the smell would be so strong. She didn't know someone could bleed this much.

Another jolt.

She kissed the girl's forehead. "I'm sorry," she choked, "I'm sorry."

* * *

_"Your cassette player's broken," Margo pointed out as she wiped her lenses._

_Mr. Gru ignored her, flipping the newspaper to another page, muttering something unintelligible. Agnes walked up to his chair and pulled at the man's pants. "Mr. Gru, we can't listen to music."_

_He flipped to another page. Edith joined her sister and pinched his leg. That earned them a glare._

_"Your music sucks. Go do something else."_

_Margo put her glasses on, adjusting the large rims, and came over to the sofa. "We're bored."_

_He didn't respond. The three of them stayed rooted to the spot, staring at him, staring, staring, staring..._

_He slammed the newspaper down. "Fine! Fine, I will fix your music."_

_Grumbling, Mr. Gru left the chair and went over to the broken player. His eye twitched- it was completely smashed. "I cannot fix this."_

_They kept staring at him. He sighed before approaching the corner of the living room. "This," he said, pointing at some sort of trumpet attached to a box, "this is a record player. It is very, very, very valuable to me."_

_He touched something and the needle began spinning about the large disk. "Enjoy." The girls gathered around it, fighting to touch the record. Mr. Gru swept them up in his arms. "No, no touching!"_

_The fought themselves loose and slid down his legs, one by one, in giggling fits. _

* * *

"Almost there, girls!" Nefario's croaky voice called, "hang on, all of you! That includes you, Gru."

They were silent again, the only sound that of the minions' quiet murmuring. Agnes and Edith were huddle by one another, looking out the window as Margo had instructed. None of them would even be here if she never made that call.

That stupid call.

She shut her eyes. What she had wanted so long ago, was a kind, loving mother, a father whose eyes sparkled, a set of parents that would love them forever. She wanted to spend Christmas on a warm couch, with a mom and a dad, and both her sisters. Trips to the beach. Movie nights. She wanted to go to school and be picked up on time and have dinner every night at a round table with a family and-

A father who groaned and spoke oddly and an uncle who fell asleep and cousins who looked like corn kernels and a dog that looked like it belonged in the ocean and a grandmother who laughed harshly. Listening to record players. Watching old Russian films. Running around their father's legs. Pancake tuesdays.

She forced herself to look at _him_. "I love you." Her throat tightened.

* * *

_"What are these?" Margo asked, laying out the blueprints for some sort of airplane._

_Mr. Gru's eyes widened as he reached for the plans. "Nothing!"_

_"I thought you said you were a dentist."_

_"I am!"_

_"These are from NASA. Do you work for NASA?"_

_"Eh... yes."_

_He snatched the plans up and hid them behind his back. Margo had a feeling he wasn't from NASA. She knew he wasn't from NASA. He probably stole them or something. _

* * *

He could hear her mumbling. It was dark and he could hear their distress. Children hated the dark, didn't they?

"Margo..."

* * *

_Margo flipped through the old photo album, the embarrassing one Mr. Gru told them never to look at. She giggled as Edith pointed out another humiliating photo of their guardian. The cowlick looked absolutely dorky on the boy._

_They had been labeled 1952. They kept flipping, wondering why he didn't throw the album out yet. There was a foreign note scribbled onto the side:_

_Son, if you dare get rid of this, I will kill you. This thing is gold- Mother._

_They didn't know what it said. Fall 1950. They doubled over laughing- Mr. Gru had no idea how to pose for photos. Winter 1950. There was a faded photo of him and a girl- she was choking him with a scarf. She had freckles and light hair, from what Margo could make out. Debbie?_

_There was a gap after 1961. Nothing at all. 1989. The first colored photo in the album: three smiling girls._

_And Margo felt her mouth curve upwards._

* * *

"Margo..."

One shaky, cold finger touched her cheek. She froze- Mr. Gru's hand trailed away, eyes still closed.

"Margo...ne plach..."

She held her breath, straining to hear him. "Ne plach... horoshaya devochka."

And he was still again. Margo let out her breath, pulse quickening, and grabbed his hand. "Mr. Gru- what...?"

"Don't cry," Nefario said matter-of-factly from the front.

He turned around and met her gaze. "Margo, ne plach. It means Margo, don't cry."

The lump in her throat returned. "He said: Margo, don't cry. Good girl."

_Good girl_. That was it. Her vision blurred and the tears spilled out.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and feel free to review!**

**I reckon there are 2 more chaps to go before it ends. Thanks for sticking with me and I promise a faster update next time.**


	7. Snap

**Thanks for sticking with this crackfest! Two more chaps to go and this ends.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

* * *

Margo sat on the plastic chair, twiddling her thumbs and staring ahead. Her glasses were removed and on her lap- she couldn't stand to wear them any longer- every few seconds, they would mist up. Her lips quivered as she choked back bits of sobbing.

Agnes was sleeping against her shoulder, shut eyes red and puffy. Margo couldn't see Edith's face; the blonde was turned away from her, hidden behind her hat.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic.

But that wasn't enough to calm her nerves. She could smell blood, _his_ blood. The scent just wouldn't go away.

_Margo, don't cry. Good girl._

She shook her head. She had tried to be a good girl- wasn't that why Mr. Gru was on that operating table in the first place? Wasn't that why they were all in this stupid mess in the first place?

Dr. Nefario claimed he needed to go the restroom. The old man said he was tired and sick. Margo knew exactly how the old man felt.

Heck, even the minions had gone to the restroom- even they were "sick." Margo didn't want to hear the beeping of machines any longer, the monotone voices of doctors, the rolling of wheels, none of it.

All she could do was wait. She could wait and hope, like she used to in the orphanage. Because her _father_ had to make it out alive, he had to.

* * *

_It was his wedding night. Gru didn't remember getting engaged in the first place. It didn't matter though. And he felt a lot shorter, or taller. He couldn't tell. Maybe he even had hair._

_The guests stared at him from the aisles. Natascha was with her children, looking at him skeptically, a playful grin on her lips. _

_"Finally getting laid, comrade?"_

_She was admonished by the man on her right, a man with a very large nose. A man who bore his face: his father. He wondered how his father had shown up. Hadn't he been tortured to death decades ago? Or was that a dream..._

_Yong nodded at him, looking quite bored. _

_Gru felt it polite to nod back. He continued down the carpeted hall until he was before the priest or rabbi or whatever it was- he wasn't paying attention. The bride was already there._

_"A gazillion years go by that fast, hunchback?" she asked._

_Debbie was a woman at least half his age. Her face was splashed with freckles and she looked exactly as he remembered, a lot older, but the same nonetheless._

* * *

Nefario wheeled himself into the waiting room, where Marlena Gru sat leafing through a magazine.

"What are you doing here?" he asked stupidly.

"Waiting for my idiot son to wake up, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Margo heard snippets of their conversation. It wouldn't be long before they could go into the actual room. Her chest was still tight and she continued to say prayers in her head.

"By the way," the aging woman added, "When he wakes up, tell him he owes me a spa treatment. I was in the middle of one."

* * *

_"Sorry, Juan, I have to go now."_

_"Oh, so soon, Mrs. Gru? Emergency?"_

_"My son's in ICU."_

_"That's terrible!"_

_"Eh. He'll live."_

* * *

Margo took to saying her prayers out loud, fingers intwined with her sisters.

"Please, we'll never ask for anything again. We'll be good girls-"

"-I'll never break anything again or punch someone or-"

"-never ask for unicorns or-"

"If he'd just live. With us, if we could all just stay together forever and ever and ever," Margo finished. "Amen."

They sniffed at the same time. Margo started the prayer again, ignoring the beeping monitors and the man behind the oxygen mask.

* * *

_Where was his mother? Gru didn't give it much thought. It was just like her to miss out on his big night, probably on purpose. At least his father was here. He looked behind him._

_Jacques was the best man, grinning with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. Behind Jacques was his usual group of companions, dressed in suits and wearing berets. _

_Felonius had missed the Frenchman._

_He turned back to his bride. Debbie smiled up at him. Then they were eye level. He felt smaller. She was exactly the way he remembered- a little schoolgirl who was too brash for her own good. He had missed her too._

_"How many girls did you kiss, freak?" She demanded._

_He remembered Natascha. And a few others. Their names escaped him. He shrugged. _

_"Forty years- cut me some slack," he replied._

_He was going to kiss the bride. But something was off. Behind Debbie was a stuffed unicorn- he was annoyed at whoever left it there. His eyes moved toward three sudden shapes in the audience._

_They were standing up, pouting, objecting to his marriage. Margo, Edith, Agnes._

_Three little kittens. A roller coaster. The moon of all things. Cookies. Pancakes. Old records. Thunderstorms. He might have missed Jacques, his father, Debbie, but that was nothing compared to these children._

_He missed them terribly. Horribly._

_The people were fading. He was fading. So it had been a dream? He concluded that it wasn't. _

_Briefly, he put his lips on Debbie's, just as they had done at the ferris wheel. He pulled apart. Everything was shrinking and growing. But the three girls didn't change. _

_Felonius Gru knew he could not get married that day. The rest of the guests were frozen. Even Debbie stayed rooted as he turned around and scooped the children into his arms. _

* * *

"I'm suprised they found a mask big enough for his nose," a woman laughed.

He knew that voice. Gru woke up, bleary eyed and half blinded with light. All he knew was that his mother was being a hypocrite. He felt oddly numb, as if someone had injected him with drugs or at least a gallon of painkillers.

There was a tube sticking up his nostrils. It wasn't comfortable. In fact, several tubes covered his person. He felt heavy and every inch of him ached in some way or another.

His mother's face regarded him with annoyance. "Almost two weeks," she quipped, "I didn't even want to come today- it's a waste of time."

Two weeks? For what?

"I was right," she concluded before hopping off her chair.

Two weeks... since the Bureau tried to turn him into swiss cheese. He assumed he was alive.

"Can't even smoke in here, boy," his mother complained.

He was pretty sure he was still in the United States. That meant he hadn't been shipped back. It also meant- Richardson had let him go? Nefario had overpowered the Bureau? His mind was boggled.

Two weeks. No wonder he felt like throwing up. He didn't even know if needed to deposit fluids or not. Ugh.

But a more important thought nagged at him. "The girls?" he asked, the words coming out hoarse and weak.

"Are you blind or just stupid?" the woman said.

He felt a sudden weight on his chest and the bed creaked. Mops of hair were clinging to him, blonde, brown, and black. Their little bodies clung tightly and it took Gru a moment to take in the scene. Margo, Edith, and Agnes were with him still.

They must have been at the other side of the bed. It sounded like they were crying and a part of him wanted to tell them not to. The other part wanted to join them.

* * *

**I hope that was worth the wait and reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	8. Cap

**I thought for sure this would be updated a few weeks ago, but real life got in the way. Well, thanks for reading and reviewing! This is the second-to-last chapter before this crackfest ends.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DM**

* * *

Edith didn't want to leave the hospital. In fact, she was dragged out by Margo, which was dumb because Margo had cried more than her. She was dragged out by a nurse who looked far too much like Miss Hattie for her liking, in the end. She remembered pleading with Mr. Gru to let her stay, but nooo, he said something about them needing to go home.

Which was dumb.

Edith hadn't wanted to leave him. Not one bit. Not after all that- he was her dad now, right? Yeah. That's right. She snuggled in the covers their grandmother- that's right, they had a grandmother now- prepared for them in the guest room.

Agnes hacked beside her.

"Don't tell me you've got a cold," Edith murmured.

"It's phlegm, Edith. She cried too much," Margo replied lazily from the other side of the bed. The oldest girl had a voice almost as a hoarse as their dad.

"I don't have flem."

"That's because you spat it all out."

Usually Edith would have argued with her sister, but at the moment, all she wanted to do was revel in the warmth of their (well, their grandmother's) bed. She wasn't like Margo. Despite everything she said and did, Edith had always believed in happy endings. She never wished. She believed completely. In fact, she knew that everything would be okay, with a capital O.

She wouldn't know what to do if that wasn't true.

She didn't want to think about it anymore. For now, all she had to do was have a peaceful night, one where she knew everything would be different and okay. Where she knew in a few days (weeks, as Margo had called it), they would be going... home for once. And the rest of her life would be filled with pancakes, minions, and their father's stupid accent.

It was too bad the image of him broken and bloodied on the ground wouldn't go away. She turned on her side. That's better.

* * *

Neyman sneered as Lloyd prodded his head with the butt of a gun.

"Admit it, Richardson! I was better than the lot of you!"

Lloyd said nothing. He pulled at the bound man's earlobe, the other agents standing quietly to the side, faces in stoic unison. Neyman continued to rant. "I caught Igumnov! I tricked you! I beat Perkins! Me! Me! Me!"

Lloyd stuck a piece of tape over that mouth. "Mmmmm!"

"You, you you. That's what it's always been about, Phillip." He sighed. "You think we fired you because of incompetency? Because you had the misfortune of running into Felonius Gru?"

"Mmmm!"

"Fifty percent, I guess."

Lloyd put the gun away. It was only there for airs anyway. He had no intention of killing Neyman as much as he would have liked to. "I fired you because I saw the flaws that day- that day you betrayed our secrets. You're a childish, self-preserving son of a gun, Phillip. Always have been and I think you always will be."

"Mmm!" Neyman glared daggers at him. It was quite amusing.

"Take him away. I think some jail time would do him some good. Government would say life sentence. Can't argue with that."

Understanding filled Neyman's eyes. He began flailing against the chair they tied him to, screaming behind the tape. Lloyd assumed he was saying something along the lines of "You haven't seen the last of me!"

* * *

_"Comrade, do you think Natascha would- you know..." Demidov trailed off, fidgeting with the files in his hands._

_Gru was only half-way listening. He was more concerned with whether or not their scheme would work- it wouldn't do their agency any good if the Americans wrote them off as clumsy theives. The Bureau's Candadian headquarters were well-fortified, but not well-enough. He smiled._

_"Felonius?"_

_"Eh? Oh. Sure. Of course- just look at how crazy she is for you."_

_"No need for sarcasm, big nose."_

_Gru scowled. "It's not big. It's- it's got character, alright!?"_

_"I think Natascha's in love with him."_

_"Who?"_

_"You know, that American boy. Some small agent- Richie."_

_"Richardson. I wouldn't worry about him." As a matter of fact, Gru had an inkling that there was already someone waiting for Natascha back home. She had let slip something about a daughter that drunken night. Oh, it was quite a night._

* * *

Damn Demidov. Why his thoughts always went back to that man was beyond Gru. They were barely friends back then, and Demidov had shot him twice. Twice. That was just plain rude.

Gru didn't know how many days had gone by since he first woke up, but he remembered drifting in and out of sleep at awkward times. The IV bags hung above him and he was sure there was a nice amount of drugs coarsing through his veins. If the amount of bandages and tubes was anything to go by, he'd be in hell without them.

That uncomfortable tube was still in his nostrils. His mother made sure to mock him for it.

Maybe Demidov had always hated him. After all, Gru was always using him as a guinea pig, meat shield, target, lackey- and he never really bothered listening to what the man had to say unless it had something to do with their mission.

It was then that the door to his ward opened. The nurse walked in, giggling and saying a bunch of nonsense Gru couldn't register. His mind must have been as numb as everything else.

"-your brother, Mr. Gru."

Brother? He didn't have a brother. Wait. That was-

"Lloyd?" He choked.

"Felonius."

"Hard to believe you're related," the nurse laughed, patting Lloyd rather suggestively on the back before taking her leave.

"..."

"..."

What. The. Hell.

"I'm unarmed," Richardson said at last.

Gru glared at him, though he wasn't sure what he would do should Richardson actually try to do anything.

"Don't worry. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead by now." The Bureau agent pulled up a chair. _Bastard thinks he owns the place!_

"It's kind of funny though, seeing you like this. For a while, I actually thought you were invincible."

"Mm."

"Looks like you can't even breathe right."

Would he stop rubbing it in?

"What do you want?"

Richardson sighed handsomely. "It's over, Gru. As far as I know, _our_ cold war's over. Why I let you go- I'm still struggling to answer that."

Would this guys never shut up?

"When you're better, just go back to your... daughters. The Bureau's done with you."

Gru's heart stopped a beat. Done with him? No more hiding.

"The catch?"

"Your days of villainy are over. Perkins won't fund you. Don't even think about funding yourself- it's over."

Richardson extended a hand. Gru stared at it like it was an alien. Over. No more grand schemes. None of that. His passion for at least thirty years dashed. His mouth twitched.

But the thought of crying children lingered. The thought of laughing children.

He took the hand. They shook.

"Deal, Richardson."

* * *

"Dad!"

Vector held the phone up, the wire tangled around his head. His father was in the bathroom, doing- he didn't want to know. Some loser was on the phone, something about operations being compromised and the bank being guilty of treachery and blah.

"Dad!"

"WHAT!?"

"Bureau called! Some guy named Richardson!"

"SO!?"

"He says he has evidence against you!"

"OF!?"

"You sold a design to Russia or something!"

"..."

"And you bailed a bunch of criminals!"

"..."

"But we'll be okay, right dad?"

"..."

"Dad?"

Perkins burst out of the bathroom, completely nude. Vector was blinded. He stomped over to his son and threw the phone on the ground, effectively smashing it into ten bits.

Perkins roared into its remains.

"Take a chill pill- the hell!?"

"Shut up! Go pack your things. NOW."

"Dad- but-"

"We're leaving. We. Are. Disappearing. Now!"

Perkins ran off to pack fake passports as Vector gathered his wits. Such was the fall of the great Perkins.

* * *

_He was alive. Alive and looking at her. That was all it took for Margo's tears to come back. She hung on him for a good while, sniffing and smiling._

_"I- I missed you," she hiccuped._

_"Margo-" Mr. Gru looked tired. He looked happy to see them, to see her. "Edith." A trembling hand patted the blonde's head. "Agnes." He scooped the three of them closer, sighing with the effort._

_"I'm sorry," she repeated. Again and again._

_"Margo-"_

_"I'm sorry!"_

_The hospital bed creaked as they moved. "Margo. Don't cry."_

_She sniffed. He pecked her forehead, her eyes widening- he said there would be no goodnight kisses. "Good girl."_

_She melted in his lap as her sisters bounced beside her. He gave kisses with abundance. It was all over and everything would be fine. He made her believe everything would be fine yet again. _

_Because she finally accepted it then- because he was her _father_. And from then on, he always would be._

* * *

Margo was still awake when her sisters weren't. That was the fourth night. She clasped her hands together and prayed, mostly to give thanks.

It was a new night. Tomorrow would bring a strange, new day, where for once, she would see everything fall into place the way it should have. Now all she wanted was her father to get well faster. Then he could take them _home_.

And she could call him "dad."

* * *

**Hope that was enjoyable and feel free to review!**

**Next chapter is the epilogue of sorts.**


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